


Need You Now

by NightChanghes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Universe, Happy Ending, M/M, Mentions of Jack Sam Chuck and Mary, Mourning, Open Ending, Spoilers, Supernatural Season 15, idk what is gonna happen yet so idk if its canon compliant or divergent ok ahahaha, supernatural season 14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 20:50:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21003968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightChanghes/pseuds/NightChanghes
Summary: Dean knew it was fucking dumb to get drunk tonight. It’s just that Castiel has been gone for nearly three weeks, and the bullet wound Sammy’s got on his shoulder is slowly eating away at his soul, and there’s still a fucking rift tearing Hell apart at the seams, and according to Chuck, this is the fucking End.





	Need You Now

<strike></strike>Dean knew it was fucking dumb to get drunk tonight. It’s just that Castiel has been gone for nearly three weeks, and the bullet wound Sammy’s got on his shoulder is slowly eating away at his soul, and there’s still a fucking rift tearing Hell apart at the seams, and according to Chuck, this is the fucking End. Dean’s actually doing alright, minus the weight of grief for Mom and Jack that’s constantly pressing down on his shoulders. For once, he wants to let go, to let himself not be okay by pressing it all down like he usually does.

So Dean drinks, downs a bottle of whiskey because his tolerance is that annoyingly high these days, and settles into his bed, headphones playing _ Led Zeppelin II _and blocking out the rest of the world. He sits for a while, waiting for the whiskey to nuzzle in next to him like an old friend, and when it hits, he stares at the blank ceiling of his room as the cement swirls around above him to the tune of “Ramble On.”

When _ Zep II _hits its final chord, Dean reaches into his bedside table and pulls out an old tape his mom gave him before she passed. “Hey Jude” hums in, and for the first time in so long, Dean lets himself mourn. He mourns the losses of his Mom and Jack, the leaving of Castiel, the losing of Sam as he knows him. He sinks into sorrow for the world, of which the brokenness astounds him. His face stays dry as he wallows and processes with the swirling warmth of alcohol in his gut.

After some time, he goes to stand, to splash cool water on his face to bring himself out of his daze, when his knees buckle and he falls to them beside his bed. He almost stands, _ almost _ . Instead, his drunkenness takes over and possesses him to turn on his knees to face his bed. He lets his elbows sink into the softness of memory foam and brings his hands close, lacing his fingers together. A brief _ fuck, what am I doing? _floats through as a cloud of a thought, but by the time he can process it, it’s already slipped his mind. With a few tears escaping from his eyes as they flutter closed, he lets out a strangled cry, softly calling for the one being who could always make the hurt fall to the wayside. 

“Cas.” His voice cracks as he lets his forehead fall to his hands.

He breathes, lets more tears fall and find their ways across his freckled cheeks, using the contours of his worn face as a map.

“_Cas.” _He calls, more desperately this time, “I need you, buddy.”

He lets his thoughts drift to a time when the angel could show up at a moment’s notice, using invisible wings to transport himself to wherever Dean was.

Now, there’s no guarantee Castiel can even hear him, no guarantee he’ll come if he is, in fact, listening, and there’s no guarantee he’ll _ever _fucking return.

So, Dean tries once more, humbling himself with an “I’m so fucking sorry, Cas, its been so fucking hard and I’ve been taking it out on you and, _ god, _ you don’t deserve that. You’re it for me, Castiel. You’re _ everything _ . Please. _ Please _ come home,” and a pause before, “Let me be your home.”

When he can bear it no more, when the words “I love you” dance too near the precipice of being known, he closes his prayer with a gentle kiss to his own knuckles and stands, trying to ignore the crackle of his joints as he does so.

He stands in silence, eyes puffy with tears and salt and exhaustion, and sways back into his bed, immediately falling asleep, ignoring the pounding already starting in his head.

When he begins to stir awake in the morning, expecting one motherfucker of a hangover, he’s surprised to notice he feels nothing sour. His stomach isn’t tainted with nausea, his head isn’t sharp with pain, his mouth feels clean despite having not brushed his teeth.

He finally turns to his back, and that’s when he becomes suddenly aware of the presence of another being in his bed. He nearly panics and opens his eyes with a snap, only to be met with the intoxicating blue of _ Castiel. _

He treads carefully, first assessing their position, Cas’ arms are wrapped gently around his waist, his black hair is messed into the pillows, his expression is calm and unassuming, and then clearing his throat to speak.

“I’m so sorry, Cas.”

Castiel’s warm breath gently tickles Dean’s hair as he lets out a soft breath of relief.

“As am I, Dean.”

Their words hang heavy in the air between them. It’s when Dean looks into those blue eyes again, noticing the glassy layer of tears threatening to spill over onto angelic cheekbones, that it hits him.

They are _both_ in mourning. And it’s okay to do that _together_.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope yall enjoyed! Let me know your thoughts!


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